Song of Oblivion
by Ghanima Atreides
Summary: A studious Imperial mage comes to study at the College of Winterhold and finds more than she could have ever dreamed, lured by the siren song of Oblivion into trap set by one in whose dominion lies all forbidden Knowledge.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

If Katarina Murrianus thought she knew cold, that was before she'd ventured into Skyrim's frozen North. The real North, near the top of the world where snows fell all year round and the very sea would turn to compact ice, where the shrieking winds whipped across white fields of desolation and the sun could stay hidden for weeks behind a forbidding curtain of steel gray clouds. It was a cold so bitter, so profound it had seeped into her very bones for not even the thickest fur cloak could entirely keep it out yet Kate's eyes shone triumphantly beneath frost-coated lashes as she gazed upon that which she had come to that godsforsaken wasteland to find: the Mages' College of Winterhold.

It was a rare clear night, Masser's glowering visage illuminating the castle as it perched precariously on a single rock spire, a long and narrow bridge connecting it to the small town for which it was named. Pinpricks of blue light dotted the top of its towers and several of the windows were also lit, like eyes upon a vast stony face. It looked majestic and somehow unreal against the moon's reddish disc, suspended over a dizzying drop into the Sea of Ghosts like a mirage. Kate inhaled deeply, the air slicing her throat and chest like a blade, but she was too elated to care. She had reached the end of a long journey which began in Cyrodiil more than two months previously and her stomach was a tight knot of excitement and fear.

"Oi! You there!" a male voice rumbled behind her, standing as she did in the middle of the starlit road which divided the town of Winterhold in two. Kate turned and was confronted by a guard on patrol who stopped short at the sight of the small fire she had conjured up to keep herself warm. He wore a full-face helmet with twin slits for eyes and she could feel the weight of his gaze as he appraised her.

"I don't know you, stranger. What's your business in Winterhold? Here for the College? Come on, out with it!"

Kate, who didn't appreciate the tone or the unprovoked hassle, fought to keep her voice calm as she looked up at the taller man:

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong; not yet at any rate." the guard said and placed one hand on the axe hanging from his belt. "You goin' to answer or not?"

"My business is my own," Kate answered coolly, "And I wasn't aware it was Winterhold guard policy to harass innocent travelers."

"Just bein' careful is all", the soldier grunted, but his hand moved away from the axe "Quite a few strange folks passing through lately, to say nothing of the queer noises coming from that place on a regular basis. Damn wizards, Gods only know what they do up there!"

Kate said nothing; she had encountered similar attitudes in Skyrim before and knew magic was not looked upon fondly there.

"You should get inside, stranger; I've seen folks freeze to death in their thickest furs on clear nights like this, fire or no fire. You think it's cold now, just wait a coupla more hours! The Frozen Hearth could use the business if you have to spend the night in town – just put out that fire first, don't want to be burning down Dagur's inn now or we'll be seeing eachother again real soon."

The memory came unbidden: Volanaro standing in the doorway, a tall wraith-like figure draped in green silk, flanked by two city guards while passers-by gawked curiously. It was a sunny Tirdas morning and the Imperial City's Market District was just starting to come to life.

"There she is!" Katarina could still hear him hiss, pointing a long, bony finger accusingly at her. "She's the one responsible, she did it! Seize her!"

Other images followed: a stone room with narrow, vaulted windows, echoing with her mother's sobs. Angry shouts ringing between the walls of the house Kate was born and grew up in. Her father calling her an ungrateful, selfish child, and she supposed she was. By the time the memory dissipated, the boorish guard had vanished and she was quite alone once more.

"That's all past", she muttered, words she had repeated so many times they'd become a kind of mantra, "Can't change the past, only influence the future."

The hour was much too late to apply at the College of Winterhold; she would have to wait for the morning and after spending the last three nights shivering in some cave or barrow like she had a bad case of the Rattles, Kate longed for a roaring fire, a warm meal and a proper bed to sleep in. Yes, locating that inn seemed like a good idea, and given the fact that Winterhold boasted a single street and just a handful of intact buildings, less than a village in her eyes, it didn't take her long to find the Frozen Hearth. As she made her way inside, Katarina felt the warm air wrap itself around her like a healing salve and sighed gratefully, slipping the hood from her head. A fire blazed in a large stone pit in the middle of the room, drawing her like a moth to bask in its glow while the frost thawed from her hair and clothes and her teeth stopped chattering. The inn was fairly small and sparsely furnished with simple wooden tables and benches, but to Kate it looked as inviting as a mansion at that moment, promising not only respite from the unforgiving Nordic night but food to fill her belly and drink to wash it down with. There were only three other people that she could see: a man and a woman tending the bar and a High Elf in purple robes sitting in a corner, sipping a drink. His eyes followed Kate as she approached the bar, rubbing her hands together; the notorious cold of the deep North had gotten its claws deep into her and would not let go.

"Well met, traveler", the blond-haired man behind the counter greeted; presumably Dagur the innkeep. His weather-beaten face wore a friendly smile, as did the woman's though her eyes were alert and cautious. "Name's Dagur, and this is my wife Haran; as you might've guessed, this little inn is ours and it's good to have a customer. What'll it be? Food, drink, a room?"

"All of them", Kate replied, reaching for the satchel which held her dwindling supply of gold. "In that order."

"Wonderful, wonderful!" exclaimed Dagur, slapping his hands together. "We have cheese and bread and spiced beef...oh plenty of fish too of course and Haran baked her special apple pie only this afternoon!"

"I'll have some bread, cheese and beef. And some ale, please."

"You've business with the College?" Dagur asked later as he watched Kate wolf down her food. She paused long enough to give him a quick, appraising glance but saw none of the antipathy the College of Winterhold tended to inspire in Nords, so she nodded.

"I hope to join, in fact. What can you tell me about it? Other people I've asked wouldn't say much, and some seemed downright offended I even mentioned it."

"I'm not surprised", Dagur sighed. "You've probably noticed Winterhold can barely call itself a town these days, but it wasn't always so. It used to be one of the finest cities in Skyrim, very ancient, very famous, until one day when a grandmother of a storm came, about uhhh...eighty years ago. Bad storms are common enough here but this...this was something else, my Grand-Pa was there and told me all about it. Winds that uprooted trees and tore down buildings, and the waves! It was like the Sea of Ghosts had come alive and was trying to swallow Winterhold whole...which is what it did. Most of the city crumbled into the sea that day, except what you can still see standing...and the College of course. It was nearly untouched by the disaster and many people believed the mages had something to do with it. Many still believe that."

Kate nodded slowly, chewing on a piece of bread and this new information. It seemed she had stumbled upon an interesting mystery.

"Truth is, nobody really knows what happened", Dagur added. "And if cleverer heads than mine couldn't figure it out, I'm happy to live and let live. Folks coming to visit the College are welcome at the Frozen Hearth same as everyone else."

_"Judging by the state of this town, I'm guessing not many people visit for any other reason"_, Kate thought privately, but in truth she was glad not to be the target of suspicious glares and barbed words for a change. She retired to her room soon after finishing her meal and was fast asleep in less than a minute.


	2. Chapter One

The following morning, Katarina awoke to the sound of an argument taking place right outside her door, Dagur's gruff voice alternating with the oily tones of a stranger:

"I'm sorry, could you describe the smell?"

"Like some horrible monster was turned inside out, and then exploded! What did you do?!"

"It was a minor miscalculation. I've already corrected it for future experiments."

"This, _this_ is why people have a problem with your college, Nelacar."

This told her three things: the stranger was called Nelacar, was affiliated with the College of Winterhold and been conducting some sort of experiments inside the inn. Kate, who had expected as much, was unsurprised to find the purple-robed Altmer sitting at the bar with a slice of snowberry pie in front of him. Of the mysterious stench, there was no trace.

"Good morning", greeted Haran as she made her appearance; Dagur crouched behind the bar, rooting around in there and mumbling to himself. "Slept well? Was the room to your liking?"

"Good morning. Yes it was fine and I did, thank you."

"Do you want any breakfast?"

Kate shook her head; her stomach had tightened into a ball again as the moment of truth drew near and she didn't have much of an appetite. Besides, if all went well, she could take a meal later with her fellow Apprentices at the College of Winterhold; if not...she would have to ration her gold for the journey back. _Journey back_...journey back_ where_?

"I have to get going", she replied, trying to put such thoughts out of her mind.

There was a thud, followed by a cry of pain, and Dagur staggered from under the counter rubbing his head but cracked her a smile just the same.

"Good luck, eh? I don't know what you have to do to get in, if there are any tests and such, though I guess there must be...Nelacar here might know, he's an old timer from the College."

The aging Altmer let out an impatient sigh and drew himself up in his chair.

"I _told_ you, I don't deal with College applicants these days; I keep to my affairs and I'm more than happy to leave them to theirs. She'll just have to go there and see for herself."

He glanced at Kate, a look of bored indifference on his golden features. He didn't really resemble Volanaro: his face was broad and squarish whereas Volanaro's was a narrow landscape of sharp peaks and deep grooves, but he the same air of aloof superiority about him that caused Kate's eyes to grow cold with dislike. She said her farewells to Dagur and Haran and departed in a hurry.

It had snowed again during the night, judging by the fresh white layer on the ground; it was _still_ snowing but the wind was bearable and the frost had broken a little, so Kate pulled her cloak tighter around herself and pushed on. Winterhold looked even smaller and more desolate by the light of day, ruin and neglect in evidence all around. Only the ancient defense walls still stood, sections of it missing where they'd crumbled into the snow but still impressive, relics of another time.

It wasn't long before Katarina reached the bridge leading to the College and took her first steps across it, braced against the wind. It was quite narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and a closer inspection revealed signs of deterioration. About halfway across the pediments had broken off completely, leaving nothing between Kate and the gray expanse yawning on either side. A sudden vision in which she slipped on the smooth stone and was dashed on the rocks below filled her mind and she shuffled on, heart firmly lodged in her throat. Ahead she could at last see a large iron gate which opened into a round courtyard where the College access points met. A column of blue light flowed out of a stone basin at its center, between the outstretched arms of a statue depicting a robed figure. As Kate drew closer a tall figure emerged from the castle as if on cue; the timing was so precise, she had to wonder whether her approach had somehow been observed. Probably.

"My name is Faralda and I am one of the senior wizards here", said the greeter in a clear, melodious voice. She stopped at the gate which remained closed. "Welcome to the College of Winterhold; now I must warn you, if you're only here to complain, you would be better off speaking with the Jarl instead. However, if there's something else that you seek, I may be able to assist you."

She was a stately blonde in fine purple robes and a white fur cape resting on her shoulders, her hair pulled up in pigtails. Kate was startled to discover her first reaction at the sight of those unmistakeable Altmer features was to tense up with suspicion: _when did she start thinking like that?_

"I am Katarina Murrianus and no, I'm not here to complain, I'm here to apply for membership. I wish to study at the College."

Faralda seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"I see. Have you had any previous magical training?"

"Not formally, no. My grandfather tutored me as a child but beyond that I'm largely self-taught. The School I'm most adept in is Destruction and I've also dabbled in Enchanting and...Conjuration."

Kate had very nearly left that last one out. The summoning of daedra and worse still raising undead were frowned upon in Cyrodiil, particularly in the Imperial City where the Synod had its headquarters. That remnant of the Mages' Guild had banned Conjuration from its curriculum altogether, blaming it for contributing to the Oblivion Crisis two hundred years past, but she knew other magical institutions did not adhere to this restriction.

"Our College has plenty to offer to a student of any of the arcane arts but the question remains what can _you_ offer the College in return." Faralda explained, unperturbed. "Applicants must prove they would constitute a valuable addition to our ranks before being admitted; a test if you will. You mentioned Conjuration. The Atronach is a vital companion for anyone relying on that School, summoning one here would certainly demonstrate your skill. Flame, frost or storm, I'll leave the specifics up to you."

Using any type of magic was an act of will, by which the wizard tapped into that reservoir of raw energy flowing from Aetherius and harnessed it into a spell. Some acts were small and easily accomplished – casting a weak flame, for example, something Kate had first started doing instinctively as a child. Others required a far greater investment and bending the will of another entity was among the most challenging, not to mention dangerous of all. Kate had studied the process in an old book, a Conjurer's Primer containing instructions on how to call upon elemental daedra called Atronachs and temporarily lure them over to serve as guardians. By the end of it she knew the words by heart but it was weeks before she attempted an actual summoning. First she learned how to delve into that nameless realm of formless darkness where such creatures lived and touch their minds with hers, establish a rapport. They had the temperamental minds of wild animals, as eager to lash out as they were to snatch the bait dangled before them, and many an inexpert conjurer had been torn apart by an out of control Atronach.

Kate took a deep breath of cold air, trying to still her racing heart and focus. She sent her mind questing to that other realm of primeval chaos with barely an effort – that was the easy part. There she could sense them, their presence, and they sensed her back. Kate set her trap. There was a rush as several creatures came to investigate but they lingered beyond her snare, distrustful of her promises. Some vanished back into the roiling gloom but a few remained as they usually did, and one reached out to answer Kate's call. She beckoned to it, soothing it, cajoling it as her will burrowed into its consciousness: _come to the air, come to the light, follow my voice, come to me_. It was a Flame Atronach, like always, the only type she had ever reached with any degree of success and it blazed with joy. They lived in darkness but loved the air and light, because fire was light and air was what made fire burn. Energy rippled through Kate's body, climbing up her spine and shooting down her right arm like an electrical current. A dark blue vortex spun between her fingers, growing larger; there was a loud snap as she released it followed by a sudden gust of wind and orange light blossomed like the rising sun. It had come, a creature that was fire given form, humanoid and distinctly female, encased in a kind of minimal armor made of molten rock. It hovered patiently midair, seeming to watch Kate though it had no eyes to speak of. The young Imperial woman's face had gone rigid with effort; if her focus wavered the link between their minds would snap like a thread and a rampaging elemental Daedra would be unleashed on the College's doorstep.

"Ah, the Flame Atronach", Faralda observed, "The most sociable of the elementals and thus easiest to conjure; not the most powerful, perhaps, but swift and useful against many types of opponents. That was a textbook summon."

"I learned it from a textbook", admitted Kate.

"Well-executed, but slow – time is of the essence in dangerous situations and you ought to be able to cast the spell comfortably, not strain your magicka reserves to the limit like you're doing now. But all that comes with practice, therefore I consider your test passed. Welcome, Apprentice Murrianus; from this moment on, the College of Winterhold is open to you."

As the gates magically sprung aside, Kate was unable to hold back a deep sigh of relief. She kept the Atronach on its leash just long enough to banish it back to Oblivion where it retreated, sulking, to its lair. Her heart soared and there was a sparkle in her eye as she followed the Elven woman into the courtyard. _She did it, she passed the test! She was on her way to becoming a proper mage and this time nobody would be able to stop her!_ Lastly, Faralda gave Kate some basic directions for finding her way around the College and directed her to speak with Mirabelle Ervine in the Hall of Attainment. As Master Wizard, helping new arrivals get settled in was one of her duties.

The Hall of Attainment was located inside the western tower, a circular two-storey building housing some dormitories, a dining area and storage room fanned out around a well of arcane energy much like the one in the courtyard. A tall young man with Nordic features and a Dunmer girl wearing an oversized hood ceased their conversation as Kate walked in, nodding at her from across the hall. She nodded back but did not stop to introduce herself, wanting to get the interview with Mirabelle Ervine out of the way first. On the second floor she came face to face with two Elven women who watched her silently as she passed by and did not return her greeting. She found Mirabelle in her room, working at her desk; she was wiry middle-aged woman who asked Kate her business then reached inside her desk for a set of papers which she handed to her. One contained the schedule for all the activities the College offered as well as a list of faculty members and their specialties, the other was a map of the castle. Mirabelle also told Kate she would be sleeping right there in the Hall of Attainment in the room closest to the entrance to the right. If she wished, she would be issued a set of standard robes though wearing these was not compulsory.

"Any questions?" Mirabelle ended matter-of-factly, interlocking her fingers upon the desk. Kate, who had heard of the many draconian rules and regulations the Synod practiced, had expected a more extensive interview.

"Are there any rules, any other expectations that I should be aware of?" she inquired guardedly.

"There are no expectations." replied the Master Wizard, seeming nonplussed by the question. "This is a place to study and practice magic freely; what you do with your time is up to you. Should you make any discoveries in your pursuits, I hope you will share them with the College first; that way we all benefit. As for rules...it goes without saying that purposely harming other members will not be tolerated and if you damage College property you'll have to pay for it. If you practice Conjuration, please keep your summons away from town, they spook the locals; _especially_ if you're planning to raise any undead."

Katarina was astonished; she would never have enjoyed this much freedom with the Synod! But..._undead?!_

"Necromancy is allowed...?"

Mirabelle Ervine's lips twitched ever so slightly and she eyed Kate with the air of someone who had been expecting that question.

"This isn't Cyrodiil, Apprentice Murrianus. We are an independent institution and have been so even when the Mages' Guild still existed; we consider all forms of magic worthy of study here and yes, that includes Necromancy."

Outside Mirabelle's room, Kate found the same two Elven women from before waiting for her. They were both blond and golden-skinned and were studying her dispassionately. The taller of them spoke first.

"So, another student...Breton, yes? Preferable to some of the additions we've had lately, such as that Orc they let in not long ago. An _Orc_! Can you imagine that?"

Kate, who had Breton ancestry and had inherited their diminutive stature, smiled thinly. She didn't like this woman's attitude and couldn't help thinking it was so typically Altmer!

"My name is Nirya, this is Lalwen; and you are...?"

"Katarina Murrianus and no, I'm not Breton."

"Well, I suppose it's not your fault", Nirya replied in a tone so dripping with condescension Kate could feel herself bristling, "And with enough dedication even someone like you can achieve some degree of magical proficiency; after all, look at Lalwen. She is only a Bosmer but her skill with shock magic surpasses that of many here."

Lalwen looked none too pleased with this endorsement but held her tongue.

"I meant that as a compliment, dear." her companion soothed.

"_No, you didn't"_, thought Kate but it was obvious whatever the relationship these two had, Lalwen was a willing participant. She looked Nirya straight in the eye, smiling broadly:

"Thank you for the kind words of encouragement."

Kate didn't bother waiting for a reply. She could feel the heat of their glares in the back of her head as she walked away and knew she hadn't made any friends there. _So be it_. Immersed in her thoughts, she almost collided with two figures loitering at the foot of the stairs: the dark-haired youth and hooded Dunmer she'd seen coming in, except the latter had since removed her hood. She had thin, delicate features and large red eyes like those of a doll.

"Sorry", she began, "I didn't see you there."

"Don't worry about it, this stairway is quite dark. Welcome to the College! I'm Brelyna, by the way, Brelyna Maryon."

"Onmund. You're called Katarina...right?"

He stole a worried glance at his companion, but Kate wasn't too bothered by their eavesdropping. She would have done the same.

"Call me Kate, and thank you. I'm glad to be here."

Another pause, another tell-tale look passed between them.

"Even after meeting the president of the superiorly-bred Mer club and her adoring fan?" Brelyna asked slyly. Kate smirked openly at that: _Hah! She might get to like this one. _

"Lalwen isn't a bad person", put in Onmund. "She just..."

"...wishes she'd been born an Altmer." Brelyna completed the sentence. "It's so obvious."

"I've met worse, the Imperial City is home to plenty of their kind."

A look of astonishment dawned on Onmund's face then, his eyes round and gleaming in the dimness.

"You're from the Imperial City?!"

"Born and raised."

"That's one of the places I'd like to see some day", he said wistfully, "Though my Pa would surely disown me if he knew."

"He practically has already", his friend pointed out.

Before anyone could add anything else, the doors burst open and a short woman stalked in with a large stack of books and scrolls balanced in her arms. She could have been Mirabelle Ervine's sister but unlike the prim and professional Master Wizard her hair was unkempt and she was gasping for breath under the weight of her burden.

"Brelyna!" the woman called out shrilly, barely seeming to notice Kate. "Oh, hello", was the only greeting she offered, not even acknowledging Onmund's presence. She looked agitated to the point of distress.

"Brelyna dear, are those reagent batches I asked you to put together ready?"

"Yes, Colette, they're in my room."

"What are you waiting for then, go fetch them, I leave for class in five minutes! No, wait! I'm coming with you, we'll save time that way."

Kate watched them go, half-expecting that mountain of clutter to tumble to the floor in which case she feared the woman might blow a gasket. She hadn't seen anyone so highly-strung since the time her mother was busy preparing the store for business in anticipation of the Emperor's nameday.

"That's Colette Marence", Onmund told her. "She teaches Restoration and she's...well, _different_. Don't get me wrong though, she's good at what she does."

Together they approached the fountain of rippling energy at the center of the Hall and leaned against the stone fence around it. Deep shadows danced across the walls and their faces, robbed of color by the blue light.

"Why leave a place like the Capital and come all the way up here?" Onmund asked Kate, earning himself a wary glance. She didn't feel like delving into that particular topic.

"Maybe I felt the need for a change in scenery; the Capital can get old after a while."

"I imagine one of the greatest cities ever built must be _so_ boring to live in."

The note of bitterness in his voice caught Kate's attention, remembering something he and Brelyna had said earlier_. "My Pa would surely disown me if he knew." "He practically has already."_

"Would you leave Skyrim if you could, then? Go live elsewhere?"

"No...not _really_", Onmund sighed. "I love my country, it's just that...I often wonder what it's like to live in a place where magic is respected and celebrated, not shunned and feared like it is here. I've never been outside Skyrim, you know, but I'd like to visit other places some day...is it true the Imperial City is so big it's basically a Hold on its own? And the White Gold Tower must be a sight to see!"

Kate gave him a curious stare. Part of her wanted to laugh at how provincial he sounded, but another could relate to that longing for exotic, faraway places and fresh experiences. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Come", she invited and lifted her knapsack off the floor. "There is something I want to show you."


	3. Chapter Two

Katarina set her belongings down on the bed in her new room, looking around for candles to light. She found several and ignited them with a flame-tipped finger, one by one their glow dispersing the gloom. It was chilly between those thick stone walls, as is common with places left uninhabited for long.

"They're quite cozy, these rooms, aren't they?" Onmund was saying. "Far nicer than the room I had back home, which I had to share with my older brother...though I suppose to you it's nothing special."

"I didn't grow up in a _mansion_, Onmund! In fact, my old room wasn't much bigger than this."

The room Kate had been assigned was indeed quite small, but contained all the essentials including a desk, wardrobe, bookshelf and wash basin, and the furniture was in good shape despite its many years of use. There was even a slightly dusty mirror; Kate caught a glimpse of her reflection in passing, a pale woman of twenty-three with large brown eyes and a small, heart-shaped mouth glancing back at her. A mop of blond hair cropped just below the jawline hugged her face; unruly at the best of times, Skyrim's harsh weather had not done it any good. It resisted a halfhearted attempt to flatten it, so Kate left it alone for the moment and instead reached for her knapsack. She fished out a leather-bound book titled "Imperial City, Cyrodiil – An Illustrated Guide by Claudius Corvus" which she handed to Onmund. He carefully pried it open as he sunk down on the bed, eyes wide with amazement.

"Sweet Lady Mara..." he whispered. The book was filled with detailed illustrations of each city district lovingly rendered in rich colors, accompanied by brief descriptions: the Market District on a busy day, the stately Elven Gardens where the wealthy and influential lived, the serene Arboretum with its well-tended garden, the Arena where famous gladiatorial battles were held and of course...

"The Imperial Palace," Onmund murmured, gazing at a page-length image of the famous white spire towering far above the city. "It's just the way I pictured it only...bigger. Hard to believe something that old still stands undamaged, isn't it?"

"Not undamaged," Kate sighed. "This book is from before the Great War, and a lot is different now. Large parts of the city were damaged or outright destroyed when the Elves sacked it and even though it's since been rebuilt, it's not what it once was."

She felt a pang of sadness, both for the loss of the city's glory and _her_ loss: she was born there, that was her _home_, now half a world away...

"This is where I used to live", she said, pointing at an illustration of a circular plaza paved in stone surrounded by elegant, arched buildings with matching green roofs. "It's rather less grand these days, and the Dragon statue isn't there anymore, but it remains one of the nicest districts in the city."

"Talos Plaza", Onmund read, his voice growing terse. "I'm going to assume it's not called that anymore either."

"It's the Emperor's Plaza now, although there are some, old timers mostly, who still call it by the old name when there aren't any Thalmor around to hear."

"See, _this_ is why we're fighting a war here in Skyrim!" the Nord hissed angrily, staring down at the picture of Talos Plaza. Kate glanced at him, eyebrows raised quizzically.

"I thought it was because one of your Jarls assassinated the High King."

"That was no assassination, no matter what some like to claim! Ulfric Stormcloak challenged Torygg to lawful combat according to the old ways."

"I don't know," Kate shrugged, unconvinced. "If it was so lawful, shouldn't he have stayed to defend his claim? Sounds like a failed coup attempt to me."

"He would have if not for all the Jarls in the Empire's pocket who demanded his head!" Onmund growled, then shook his head "You're not a Nord, you wouldn't understand."

"I understand better than you think", she shot back, temper on the rise. "I'm from the Imperial City, remember? My grandfather fought in the Great War, I grew up with the stories...not just of the battles, those were bloody enough, but what they did to innocent civilians! Do you know what happens when a city is sacked...? The killing, burning, looting and raping went on for weeks! They slaughtered children in front of their parents and dumped the bodies in the canals, and if they were _lucky_ it was a quick death. If not..."

Onmund fell quiet, looking abashed and a little ill. When he spoke again, his voice was dry as a bone:

"Then why did the Emperor give in to the Elves' demands?"

"To buy time, why else? _They_ are certainly biding theirs, and I can't help but feel that us turning on each other, weakening the Empire, is precisely what they _want_."

Silence descended: a tense, uncomfortable silence. It was Onmund who broke it, still gazing at the pictures of a bygone era in his hands but with a different expression, thoughtful and a little sad.

"I...I guess I never really looked at it that way," he admitted, albeit reluctantly "And I didn't mean to claim only we Nords have suffered...we can be quite stubborn, it's true; take magic for example. It took me years to convince my parents it was what I wanted to do, instead of becoming a...soldier or a farmer. They still resent me for it. What about your family? Are they happy you're here?"

"No", said Kate, glad for the change of topic though not so fond of the new one. "They don't even know where I am and it's better that way. For all involved."

He nodded quietly. She would say no more, and sensing the conversation had come to an end Onmund rose to his feet, placing the book back into her hands. A weak smile hovered on his lips.

"Well then; I'll leave you to unpack and rest for a bit, I imagine you'd like some time to yourself. Thank you for showing me this though; I appreciate it."

Kate walked him to the door where they parted with a final wave; she was about to turn back when she noticed someone standing in a nearby doorway, watching her. A woman.

"You must be the new apprentice Lalwen was telling J'zargo about", she spoke in soft, husky tones. "I'm Arielle."

"Katarina...Kate", the Imperial replied, trying not to stare. The woman was no taller than her and possibly even paler, with dark hair and venom-green eyes outlined in black. Far more bizarre however was the armor she wore: it was the shabbiest thing Kate had ever seen, faded brown leather and ragged fur held together with bits of rusted iron. It looked like the last thing a College mage would wear, yet somehow _familiar_.

"Settling in well, I take it?" Arielle went on, seeming not to take notice, "I see you've met Onmund, and I do believe he's taken an interest in you already. Not bad."

Kate frowned, blinking in surprise. It took her a moment to recover, sincerely hoping Onmund was out of earshot by then.

"I assure you there is no..._interest_", was her firm reply, to which Arielle simply smiled.

"Oh, I think there is", she insisted and added a wink for emphasis, "Take it from me, I have an eye for this sort of thing. He's not bad looking either, if you like that rough Nord look."

Kate thought she was talking nonsense, but didn't feel like arguing the matter any longer. Her gaze kept going back to that strange armor she wore, until eventually her curiosity won out:

"What kind of armor _is_ that? It looks...ancient."

"It is", Arielle answered proudly. "And it's an ongoing experiment."

She told her it involved tapping into certain potent magics woven into the fabric, and claimed she was not ready to reveal more just yet. Later during lunch, Brelyna whispered that Arielle was keenly interested in the necromantic arts of the ancient Nords to the point she had dragged an actual Draugr corpse up to her bedroom to study. It was whom the armor had belonged to.

"So _that_'s why it looked familiar!" exclaimed Kate, remembering the one time she had considered spending the night inside one of the old barrows dotting Skyrim's landscape. With no better shelter in sight and darkness fast approaching, it had seemed like a good idea...until two of the long-dead inhabitants shambled out of their graves, snarling guttural warnings before attacking. Even after they were reduced to smoldering heaps on the floor, the thought of what might lurk in the black recesses of that subterranean labyrinth of the dead had made sleeping there out of the question. Kate couldn't imagine keeping one in her room.

"That happens to be one of my _ancestors_!" Onmund muttered darkly. "It's not right, using her remains in some kind of magical experiment like that. It's disrespectful."

"This one has heard these so-called Draugr were cursed never to find peace as punishment for serving Dragons in the old days", put in J'zargo, the College's only Khajiit resident. His feline eyes were narrowed slyly. "Curious, no?"

Kate eyed him with interest: Khajiit wizards were a rare sight and this one was a long, long way from sunny Elsweyr. Onmund was sulking, but her curiosity had been piqued: she knew relatively little about Skyrim's past and as a student of history she intended to correct that.

One of the College's features Kate had been most thrilled to discover was its library, the Arcanaeum. It was here she retreated later in the day, a grin spreading on her lips at the sight of the many tall bookshelves ringing the Arcanaeum's walls, just waiting to be browsed. Even more tomes were stacked on tables and inside alcoves and the spicy smell of old books filled the air, a smell Kate loved. It was not quite the Imperial Library, but it would do nicely. Yes, very nicely indeed.

According to Mirabelle Ervine's introductory guide, the head librarian was an elderly Orc by the name of Urag gro-Shub and she had been warned that he took his work _extremely_ seriously. Both Brelyna and Onmund had seemed a touch nervous but Kate wasn't particularly worried; anyone who appreciated books was someone she was likely to get along with. She spotted him behind his desk with his nose inside a tome and another, a much younger female with an armful of scrolls who stopped abruptly at the sight of her. This, Kate mused, must be Urag's assistant.

"H-Hello", she said tentatively, the look on her face reminding Kate of a deer about to bolt. Orcs were rarely clad in anything other than furs or steel, and this one was the first to wear her hair in pigtails she'd ever seen.

"Are you a new student?"

"Yes I am. I'm Kate, and I'd like a catalog of available books if you have one."

"You can get one at the front desk, but you must first speak with Urag and fill in a form. He's very strict about it, all students _must_ be registered."

She paused, her large, fanged mouth straining to form a smile. It was a timid smile that lit up her face like a flash of sunlight.

"Oh...I'm Galasha gra-Baroth but you can call me Asha" she added, almost like an afterthought. "If you like, I mean...most everyone does. Let me know if you need help around the library or...anything else."

_How unusual,_ the young Imperial thought to herself as she approached the head librarian's desk, a balding Orc with a thick white beard and small, unfriendly eyes.

"New student, eh?" he growled. "Here." He pushed a sheet of paper towards Kate, tapping it with a gnarled finger. "Fill this in if you want to borrow any books."

"Your assistant told me you can also provide a catalog?" Kate inquired as she dipped a quill in a nearby inkwell and proceeded to write down her name at the top of the form.

"Met Asha, did you?" she heard Urag gro-Shub grunt "Sweet girl, too nice for her own good, so allow me to make this perfectly clear: this is _my_ Arcanaeum, might as well be my very own plane of Oblivion. Hundreds of years have gone into assembling this collection and I intend to make sure it remains _pristine_. Treat any of these books poorly and you'll pay the blood price for it, do you understand?"

_That you're an old blowhard who tries to make himself seem more important than he is? I'm starting to_, thought Kate, who was getting tired of his posturing. She saw then why Onmund and Brelyna had felt the need to warn her about him.

"Yes, I think I get the picture", she replied, refusing to let it spoil her good mood. Little over an hour later, she returned with a stack of books which she deposited on Urag gro-Shub's desk in a row. There were nine of them, including titles such as "A History of the Old Kingdom", "The Dragon War", "Songs of the Return" and "The Great Collapse – A Study". Urag frowned at them, then at Kate:

"You _did_ read the part of the registration form which states you can only keep books for two weeks at a time?"

"Oh, yes" Kate assured him. She was positively beaming.


	4. Chapter Three

The following morning, all Apprentices including Asha the assistant librarian were gathered in the Hall of the Elements, ready for their first lesson to begin. Arielle, Kate noted, had exchanged her Draugr armor for a set of standard purple robes. Located inside the central tower together with the Arcanaeum and the Arch-Mage's quarters, the Hall of Elements resembled the others in appearance: a circular room bathed in the blue light emanating from the arcane focal point at its center, but larger. This was where lectures, practice sessions and other public events were held.

"Magic, by its very nature, is volatile and dangerous", the elderly wizard facing his apprentices was saying "Unless you can control it, it can and _will_ destroy you."

Kate looked him up and down, seeing a Nord with shoulder-length hair and a full beard, both completely white with age. His back was slightly bent but his movements were sprightly and his gaze intent as it beheld each student in turn. His name was Tolfdir, the resident Alteration master and expert in defensive magic.

"Which is why I have chosen wards as the topic of today's lesson" he continued "Too many young mages focus on the destructive capabilities of magic, when safety is just as important. It is, in fact, even _more_ important."

Kate felt her stomach clench: wards weren't her strong suit and she never used them, finding them awkward and cumbersome in a fight. To make matters worse, they had an audience: Arch-Mage Savos Aren himself was in attendance, together with...

"Who is that?" Katarina hissed in Brelyna's ear as she peered at the tall elf by Aren's side, clad in the unmistakeable purple and gold robes of Thalmor wizards. A look of haughty indifference was painted on his features, as though he deemed the current proceedings unworthy of his time.

"Ancano", the Dunmer whispered back. "He's been sent here as an adviser to the Arch-Mage."

"_A spy, more like it"_, Kate thought scornfully. She had hoped that coming to Skyrim meant she wouldn't have to cross paths with his kind any more but she had been wrong; it seemed that not even the isolated College of Winterhold had escaped their scrutiny.

"Now", Tolfdir said and clapped his hands for emphasis, "Let's begin, shall we? What I'd like for us to do is practice a few defensive techniques; just the basics, don't worry. Is everyone the least bit familiar with warding spells?"

There were nods and murmurs of confirmation all around; Kate steeled herself for what was to come as she tried to dredge up what little knowledge she had on the subject. She knew a single ward spell, one she'd never actually put to use, but she would sooner bite her tongue than admit it in front of the others.

"Excellent!" the elderly wizard concluded, sounding a touch impressed. The apprentices were then told they would each take a turn using their wards to defend themselves from his attack.

"This exercise is not without risk", Tolfdir cautioned "The spell I'll be using won't kill you but can still leave a nasty burn so, everyone, please focus! Who would like to go first?"

His question was met with restless silence from the students, the silence of indecision. Kate waited; she wanted to see someone else in action first so as to get a better idea of what to expect. She may have known little about wards, but she did know a fair deal about fire magic.

"J'zargo has already mastered lesser wards; I will take your test", a heavily accented voice suddenly spoke out. The Khajiit stepped forward; his chin was raised and his tail flicked back and forth as he took the indicated position a short distance from Tolfdir, waiting. Everyone, including Kate, watched intently as they both readied their spells: there was a crackle of energy and a whoosh, Tolfdir's firebolt hurtling through the air towards the translucent energy field held up by J'zargo like a shield. It hit it squarely, then harmlessly bounced off.

"Easy as a Dark Elf lass in a skooma den", chortled the Khajiit as he swaggered back to the group, clearly pleased with himself, but his wit went unappreciated. Especially by Brelyna, who treated him to a glare that could have curdled milk. Lalwen went next, executing the spell flawlessly, then it was Onmund's turn. His ward flickered on and off for a moment but he, too, managed to counteract Tolfdir's attack. Kate decided she had seen enough.

"I'll go next", she announced, stepping to the fore. Her palms were cold and slick with sweat.

"Cast your ward please", Tolfdir instructed once she'd taken her designated place facing him. Somehow, the distance seemed larger from that angle. Fervently hoping it would not fizzle out, Kate did as instructed and was relieved to see the shimmering field grow out of her hand, expanding until it shielded her from head to toe. The world looked slightly distorted through it, which was another reason she didn't like wards.

"Good, now hold it in place", she heard Tolfdir say, oddly remote. Kate did so, each second seeming to crawl by as though somebody had cast a Slow Time spell over them. She could see him with his arm pulled back in the customary stance, fire in hand, and mentally urged him to hurry it up. Had he taken this long with the others? At long last the ball of fire was airborne, speeding towards her like a loosened arrow. Kate held her breath: her every instinct screamed to get out of its way but she stood her ground and then, suddenly, horribly...the ward winked out. She didn't think: there was no time to, not with a fiery projectile seconds away from her face. Instinct took over and she plunged to the floor, feeling a rush of hot air as the flaming bolt sailed over her head, crashing into the wall behind her. Kate smelled burnt hair and she knew how narrowly she had avoided a faceful of fire; her heart was pounding and her palms ached where they met the stone floor. It was her pride however that had suffered most. With as much dignity as she could muster, Kate stood up.

"It's alright, it's alright!" Tolfdir shouted, waving his arms in the air. "These things happen! In fact, we could look at it in a positive light; perhaps now my warnings about the dangers of magic will sink in. Are...are you all right, my dear?"

Kate nodded. Her insides were crawling with fury and humiliation and she had to force herself to look at her fellow apprentices. Every single one of them was staring at her, some concerned, others merely curious, and there was no mistaking the smug glimmer in Lalwen's blue gaze. It was then that she decided.

"I want to try again."

"Are you sure? Perhaps it would be better to take a break, practice a few times on your own-"

"No", Kate said firmly "I want to try again _now_."

She realized what had gone wrong. It wasn't the spell's complexity – though her unfamiliarity with it certainly hadn't helped matters – and it wasn't as though she lacked the magicka reserves to cast it either. No, it went deeper than that, to the most basic requirements for wielding any type of magic: discipline and focus. She'd been more concerned with not botching the spell than the spell itself, allowing doubt and fear to infect her mind and break her concentration. A novice mistake.

"As you wish", the Alteration Master conceded. Once again, he launched his firebolt; once again Kate summoned her protective shield, only this time her thoughts did not waver and neither did the ward. She braced herself for impact, although such caution proved unnecessary: the ward absorbed the incoming spell's energy with surprising ease.

"Well done," Tolfdir congratulated, "You're starting to get the hang of it now."

"I just lost my focus for a moment," Kate replied, a little defensively. The elderly wizard nodded.

"Yes, I noticed as much. You see though, this is precisely what I meant! True control, _mastery_ of magic is something that takes years, even decades of study and dedication to achieve. Mistakes are costly! I sincerely hope you – _all_ of you – keep that in mind on our upcoming field trip."

The College of Winterhold had recently begun excavating one of the oldest and largest settlements in Skyrim, Saarthal. Sacked by the elves many ages ago in mysterious circumstances, the ruins had remained untouched for almost as long and everyone was excited at the prospect of gleaning fresh insights into the lives of those ancient Nords, the kinds of magics they used...perhaps even learn the truth about what truly happened to Saarthal. There was just one thing that didn't make sense to Kate.

"How come a place as famous as this has never been explored before?" she asked Onmund and Brelyna after the lesson had ended. The three of them sat together in the foyer, waiting for the next one to begin.

"Oh, it has been", Brelyna told her, carefully avoiding Onmund's gaze. "Most of what existed above ground was destroyed, both during the Night of Tears and the intervening centuries; only the barrow truly remains. Seeing how most Nords are of the opinion that such places should remain undisturbed, getting approval for its excavation has always been...tricky."

"Would _you_ be happy letting others rifle through the bones of _your_ ancestors?" Onmund intervened; Brelyna raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dark Elves don't bury their dead; we burn them."

Katarina on the other hand gave him a wide-eyed stare, brimming with scholarly excitement:

"This is no mere tomb, this is part of one of the oldest cities in the whole of Tamriel, dating back to the Merethic Era! It's a piece of history itself, preserved, and we'll be the first people to see it in centuries_, _perhaps even_ millennia_! You can't tell me you don't find that at all fascinating!

Onmund was spared the need to answer by the arrival of Faralda who signaled the beginning of their next class: Intermediary Destruction. Reserved for students who focused on that particular School, the only ones who took part were Kate, Lalwen, Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo. Faralda stood before them, hands folded on her abdomen.

"Let's begin by discussing the three core elements: fire, shock and frost and the associated spells. A large majority of mages have an affinity for one particular element, and indeed most choose to specialize accordingly. This, of course, leaves them at a disadvantage against foes resistant to that type of spell."

"This is why J'zargo has been practicing fire and frost spells as well as shock; is it not true that certain powerful mages were able to master them all? You being one of them? J'zargo is glad for the opportunity to learn from such a one."

Faralda lifted her brows ever so slightly at that; she looked faintly amused.

"Your attempt at flattery notwithstanding, J'zargo, you are correct. At your level however, it is more important to focus on mastering _one_ element. Familiarity strengthens affinity, and there are other ways to compensate: scrolls, potions."

Kate saw J'zargo's grin fade in the wake of that rebuke and thought to herself that Faralda wasn't so bad for an Altmer. Once they were done discussing the advantages and disadvantages of each element, including common weaknesses and resistances found in nature, she announced a practice session. After all, casting a spell was only half the challenge.

"Just as an archer spends time improving their aim, so should a Destruction specialist", she pointed out, watching each student in turn. Lalwen frowned, looking offended by the association. "Concentration spells are easier to cast and good for a tight spot, but as a rule we mages try to put as much distance between ourselves and an enemy as we can."

Faralda waved her hand and an image appeared before them, hovering midair. It looked like any common target an archer or warrior might use for training, except it was translucent and shimmered slightly with a pale glow.

"The goal is simple: hit the target until it is destroyed", the Destruction Master instructed. "Be warned, however: every few seconds it will change position and the longer it remains in the air the faster it will move. Good luck."

Unlike Tolfdir who asked for volunteers, Faralda had her apprentices demonstrate their skill in alphabetical order. Therefore Brelyna went first and her firebolt hit true, but she botched her second attempt, then her third, before landing two more successful hits. Next, J'zargo unleashed his lightning spell, wielding it with both hands. He, too, missed once, but on the following tries hit the target dead-center, obliterating it in the process. Faralda then conjured up the target a third time, turning her attention to Kate.

Still smarting as a result of her earlier mishap with the ward, the young Imperial stepped forward, eyes fastened on her objective. An idea had taken root inside her mind, sending a familiar tingling sensation coursing through her arms, steadily growing in intensity. She liked that feeling; it was a good feeling, a _powerful_ feeling. An incandescent ball of primal energy was taking shape between her fingers, which she clutched with both hands as a child might clutch a toy, but this was no toy. In one sudden, sweeping motion Kate launched it. Like a miniature comet it plummeted towards the target where it detonated with a deafening bang, spraying fire everywhere. The target did not re-appear.

Content, Kate turned to the rest of the group. She saw them staring at her and knew what they were thinking: that it was no Apprentice-level spell she'd just used. Very true. It was what Kate had spent the better part of a year mastering, turning failure after frustrating failure into gradual success. The mighty Fireball, a standard weapon in the professional Battlemage's arsenal and one of her greatest arcane achievements to date.

"That's more like it!" hissed J'zargo, a predatory glint in his eyes.

To Kate's surprise, he then added:

"J'zargo is pleased; there is real competition here. This is good!"

"Rather...messy, don't you think?" countered Lalwen "The same can be said about all fire spells, which is why shock is the superior choice. Perfect balance of strength and accuracy."

"_The superior choice._.." Brelyna repeated, snorting derisively. "Where have I heard _that_ before?"

Before the argument could go any further, Faralda intervened:

"This particular exercise doesn't concern that. You, Katarina, did well but let me ask you this: were you able to cast the spell without expending most of your magicka reserves in the process?"

Kate didn't answer, for the question was clearly rhetorical. The thrill of victory she felt was beginning to wane and as much as it galled her to admit it, she was right. She only had enough magicka for another Fireball and...yes, she'd wanted to show off. Prove she wasn't incompetent to those who might have gotten different ideas.

"There is far more to the School of Destruction than causing the maximum amount of damage in the minimum amount of time," Faralda went on, addressing the entire group "Indeed, the most powerful spells are rarely the best choice, though young Apprentices often make the mistake of thinking the opposite. Used efficiently, several weaker spells can prove more effective than a single, devastating one, conserving magicka as well. Tactical spellcasting is an essential part of the Destruction School; for more on that topic, I recommend that you read "The Art of War Magic" by Zurin Arctus and "Response to Bero's Speech" by Malviser."

A memory surfaced then, momentarily distracting Kate from her deflated pride. She knew "The Art of War Magic" well, for an especially old copy of it had belonged to her grandfather, Theodore Bellamy. Its most distinctive feature was a nearly-faded signature scribbled on the inside of the cover which Theodore had liked to claim was Arctus's himself. Kate was inclined to doubt that – the book was old, but not _that_ old- yet it remained the only thing of her grandfather's she had left. Or rather, she did until it was stolen along with a number of other supplies on her way from Cyrodiil by a group of robed strangers while she answered nature's call further into the woods. On one hand, Kate had had the foresight to keep all her most valuable possessions, primarily her gold, on her person at all times and the thieves had seemed disinterested in her spare clothes and bedroll. On another, losing that book had made her disproportionately angry so she'd tracked them for a stretch, but there were six of them and one of her and from what snippets of conversation she'd been able to hear, they were all wizards. In the end, she was forced the abandon her chase and continue her journey to Winterhold or become hopelessly detoured. The bitterness returned then, evoking feelings Kate would rather suppress: guilt, regret, loss.


End file.
